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Decay Absolutus
I can feel it. Each day, when I look in the mirror... I can see my visage, what was once my identity and my only connection to my perfect life, crumble further. What was once smooth, carefully maintained features were replaced with scars—of both burns and extremely deep cuts from a jagged knife. The thing which made me an icon, what made me a god amongst gods, what got me in the acting business was now a deliberate joke of what it once was. From Adonis to Hephaestus… my beauty has decayed into something which only heavy metals and dark places can appreciate. But instead of rage, I feel still. Instead of bitterness, I feel hunger. She did this to me. She made me into what I am. She lured me off set one day after a long shoot. I was ready to go home and sleep until the moon rose so I could go to some club and... fuck around and do club stuff. But, she stopped me in my tracks and, with the aggressiveness of a predator, kept me where I was until I agreed to take her to lunch. She gave me the location before swank ring off in her pink heels. Hours later, I met her at the location. It was upscale and expensive—a little out of my budget—and had celebrities coming in and out as if they were normal people. We were seated quickly and given menus that had the names of the selections and no prices. I lifted mine to my face and pretended that I was actually interested in the food selections while I looked at her. She was beautiful—her features were perfect, she had waist long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. I recognized her as a popular model whose face was… absolutely everywhere at the time. She had a reputation of doing her own hair and makeup because she took perfection to the absolute extreme—to the point to where she got into many heated battles with makeup artists and sometimes even photographers. She was said to have a nasty temper. I was a little apprehensive about our sudden lunch date while I let her presence sink in. “Lamb.” Her voice bought my observations to an abrupt halt. “Excuse me?” I ask, trying not to sound rude. “Order me a bloody lamb and a sparkling water.” “B-” She slammed the table with a perfect smile on her face. One of her knives that was on either side of the salad plate was now sticking straight up from the table. One hand was nonchalantly cradling her face in her hand while the other was… tapping and twitching restlessly as if trying to keep away from the erect steak knife. Her eyes and expression reminded me of a cornered human trapped by some type of carnivorous predator who was laughing at the fact that it had its new toy cornered. The later afternoon didn’t go south, as much as it took a turn into a dark alleyway in which I could not return. We spent the rest of the day together doing normal date things like going shopping and seeing the movies. Nothing else like the lunch occurred again for the rest of the day. Before we knew it, it was nighttime and the bars and clubs were beginning to open up to all the craving night-lifers. I suggested a club that I frequented and offered to take her there. Instead of giving a clear yes or no answer, she gave an alternative: “Let’s go someplace... dark.” I looked to her, about to ask why and I was greeted again with the wild look in her eyes that stirred up fear in me. As much as I wanted to say no, I knew that I absolutely couldn't. Whatever it was that she wanted from me, she was getting. Her questions and suggestions were for formality only. We took a cab to the country side to this out of the way and completely abandoned farming shed. It was overtaken by nature and seemed like it could absolutely crumble just by someone breathing on it. She walked ahead of me to the rotting door and pushed it open with a moaning, aching creaking sound. She was motioning with her face and smile to come in. After a few moments, when her smile faded and her gaze became horrifyingly commanding again, I did as she wanted me too. She held the door open for me as I reluctantly walked inside. Then the scent of rot and death hit me like an aluminum baseball bat to the face. The shed was so dark that I couldn't see anything around me. I could hear something breathing, grunting actually. The grunts wheezed in agony. I was so absorbed in the sounds of the wheezing that I couldn't hear her come up behind me and hit me with the shovel. I was out for... a long time, I guess. When I woke up, she was standing over me, as motionless as a statue. She was barely illuminated by a soft candle burning timidly in front of her, also afraid of her untamed nature. She was covered head to toe in gore, as if she bathed in it several minutes prior. My mind—more concerned with her appearance, rather than my own well-being—wondered how and why she was so drenched in this vile liquid, then I realized right away that the wheezing was gone, leaving the only other sound to be my rapid, panicked breathing. “Say baah.” She leaned forward when she voiced the "baah," her lips still perfect, delicate, ‘O’ despite the human leftovers on her face. When I didn't do as she said, she repeated the command with a bit more edge in her voice. I remained silent instead of giving into her deeds, not so much out of the need for survival, but curiosity. I wanted to see what she would do to me if I tempted her hand. She turns around, goes into the darkness, opens the door, and then shuts it. She comes back some several minutes later, slamming the door behind her. As she walks toward the light, I hear the sound of a… plastic cap being unscrewed off of an object, and of her tapping rapidly on the surface of whatever she was holding. When she came back into the light, she was holding a very large, white and blood smeared jug. Her expression was as still as she was in the few minutes she took her place back over me. When I still retained my silence instead of bleating, a cool liquid was poured onto my face. After seconds, the liquid began to burn like the hottest of all fires! I screamed in agony as the smoke waffled up my nose and into my eyes and burned my senses to frightening numbness! Then, I am stomped in the chest so severely that the remaining shrieks were immediately knocked out of me. She stomps on me again, her stiletto heal cracking my rib cage and sending another lighting strike of pain all throughout my entire body. I feel weight shift slightly off of her foot, then her body come closer to mine. Another pain penetrates my cheek and is pushed all the way to the other side of my mouth to my other cheek. I can’t react fast enough as she pulls it out of my cheek and rams it into my side. She then twists it back and forth, back in forth, the swishing and squirting sides of whatever she sliced within crying out…begging for mercy and begging her to stop. The pain last what feels like hours… it became so painful that I was seeing illusions of my dead dog scampering about as if it was nothing. “B… B…” I could feel her smile. “Huh? What’s that?” “B… b… baah…” She laughs with a loud, piercing frequency. “What was that, you piece of shit!? I can’t fucking hear you over your bitchy little cries!” “BBAAAHH!" I cried, releasing the strength I mustered. It really couldn't have been any louder than her voice, but she laughed regardless. She laughed so hard, so long, and so high pitched that it echoed into my mind forever. “I’m not hungry anymore.” She says, still trying to collect herself. “Have fun with your acting, fuck-face.” She called the cops and fled the scene. I had to be given immediate medical attention upon being found, and I was transferred to several hospitals for several different things. Eventually, I lost my career, went into debt from all the hospital bills and became a bitter recluse in a one room apartment in the seedy part of town. When taking out my trash one day, I saw something comedic in the trashcan: a powdery pink lamb mask that looked like it came from a low-budget mega-mart. I stared at it for a long, long time before plucking it out of its disgusting grave. Afterwards didn't go as planned. Originally, I was going to find the rabid little cunt, cut her open and use what was in her as party decorations. I ended up finding her at one of her favorite stores, looking for more pink to go with her image. I ended up stalking her for the rest of the day until she was driven back to her own hotel and went up to her floor with two men carrying her shopping spoils. She was in a suit by herself on the upper floors while her nagging manager took a suit on another. As soon as her piles of shit were loaded into her suit, I snuck into a vacant room next to hers, bypassed the cleaning staff, and jumped into her balcony. When I made my way to where she was in the suit, in her bedroom, I readied my hunting knife that lie in waiting to cut into the bitches throat. As I moved closer to her, I could hear the sound of her chewing on… something. My need for revenge was replaced with curiously and, no longer trying to hid my presents, looked over her shoulder. At first, I thought she was eating a steak with her bare hands, making a mess and getting the blood and oil seep everywhere. Then, I looked closer and realized it was a rare cooked, partially eaten, human heart that was dripping with blood and steak sauce. I immediately recoiled, more out of realization than fear and ended up backing into a lamp on the nearby desk. The sound startled her enough to make her back into the wall and clutch the heart as if I was out to get it and not her. Her teeth were bared and caged another growl beyond them. Her eyes, no, her entire being burned with a savage nature that was comparable to a cornered creature. She was poised to attack, no matter what move I made… I no longer wanted to kill her, I was more curious to see what she would do next. We stared at each other in silence with only the ticking of the clock filling in voids. With each moment that passed, she became less and less coiled and more and… more calm. Her eyes also reflected curiosity, but the same I had. No, she isn't the type. Intelligence was clicking in her mind, her hands unclenched the half-eaten heart in her hand, the sides of her bloody mouth quirked with restrained hunger. She walked closer to me and, after a moment of staring further, extends the heart toward me that she once treasured so dearly just a few instants ago. “Eat it.” She commanded a blank, observing expression on her face. I inhaled, and took the heart. I wasn't going to eat it at first, but when she refused to move and kept her impressionable eyes on me, I knew that I had no choice but to sample the cuisine handed to me. I braced myself, bared my teeth, and took a bite. The flavor swelled and swirled in my mouth in a way no other food had done to me. I took another bite. And another. And another until there wasn't any of it left. I could feel something inside me cry out in irritation and anger. Something within flipped a switch that could never be reset. Something in me craved more of this delicacy; something in me was hungry. A door opened in the main room, followed by the sound of humming and quiet conversations carried on in another language from ours. My heart rate raced and my mind was filled with excitement. I licked my lips, dawned the pink sheep mask I had grown to treasure and once again pulled my knife from its fabric prison. “Let’s go someplace... dark.” I say, watching her eyes ignite, and a smile stretch across her face. Category:Mental Illness